


Bad Beat Baby

by RayShippouUchiha



Series: Under The Gun [1]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Age Difference, Akira And Morgana Are The Phantom Thieves, Akira Went To Juvie For A Year Instead Of Getting Parole, Akira is 18, Akira needs a hug, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atlus Is Filled With Cowards Who Wouldn't Let Me Date Gun Daddy, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Akira, BAMF Iwai, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Crossdressing, Crossroads, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iwai Is 28, M/M, Morgana is a good bro, Not Canon Compliant, Older Man/Younger Man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Police Brutality, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Romance, So here we are, Tags May Change, Timeline What Timeline, idiot boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayShippouUchiha/pseuds/RayShippouUchiha
Summary: “Go get your face on,” Lala waves him away.  Which is, of course, an answer all on its own.  “And wear the red number, you know the one.”“Why?” Akira asks, already pushing himself up off of the stool.“Don’t play coy with me,” Lala chides.  “Save that for your admirer.  He’ll probably be back tonight you know.  He’s been in every evening this week instead of just on Monday and I know it’s because he’s been looking for you.”“Stalker,” Akira murmurs, doing his best to ignore the way that bud of curiosity blossoms just a bit more.“Smitten,” Lala corrects easily enough.  “Deliciously so in my opinion.  Put your best foot forwards and who knows, if you play him and your cards right, you might have some company in that lonely little bed of yours for once.”
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Iwai Munehisa, Iwai Munehisa/Kurusu Akira, Iwai Munehisa/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Under The Gun [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743247
Comments: 12
Kudos: 199





	Bad Beat Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me, ya gurl, back at it again....

_Bad Beat - a poker term for a hand in which a player with very strong cards loses to an opponent who is statistically unlikely to win, but hits a lucky card (or two) and unexpectedly takes the pot._

~~~

Akira is completely numb.

Well, _almost_ completely numb. The bruises that haven’t had a chance to fade yet as well as his now red cheek and the fresh split in his lip all throb too sharply for him to be truly _physically_ numb.

But mentally? Emotionally?

Akira feels frozen down to the core, feels as if his limbs have been filled up with static and his head stuffed full of cotton.

He’s not sure when, or even _if_ , the feeling will ever fade.

He’s been like this, teetering on the edge between screaming and silence, for over a year now.

Today had only pushed him further than ever before.

And yet, at the same time, it doesn’t hurt as bad as he knows it could. As bad as a part of him used to think it would.

But then that was the past, that was a younger, more naive version of him.

One that died a quick and painful death just over a year ago.

Nowadays Akira knows pain, knows hurt and anger and every frigid thing in between.

His arrest and those detectives in that _interrogation room_ had taught him about both of those things in spades.

And, in the end, they’d only been the beginning of his … _re-education_.

Standing alone at his sentencing, bruised and beaten and head still fuzzy from whatever he’d been forcefully given, had been _bad_. Had been another step down the path he’d been unwillingly placed upon.

But all of it, all of the hurt and the bleeding and the outright pain, had paled in comparison to the actual reality of spending a year locked up in _that place._

Never getting a single letter or a visit or _anything_ from _anyone_ during his entire time locked away had stung and _ached_ but even that hadn’t touched upon the agony of being imprisoned.

Akira had gotten used to being alone at a young age after all. 

Still, of everything that had happened to him, Akira knows that being locked away like that, his freedom stolen for a crime he didn’t commit, his world narrowed down to barred windows and locked doors, is what will _always_ stick with him.

He never wants to feel so trapped and chained down ever again.

Akira folds himself down further around the bulky bag in his lap, the only one he’d been allowed to take, the one that had been _thrown_ at him.

Curled up as tightly as he can get, Akira does his best to breathe and slowly blink behind the lenses of his fashion glasses.

The same ones his lawyer had pressed on him right before his useless day in court. The same ones he’s been using as a shield of sorts ever since then.

So, with his mother’s screaming rage and his father’s quiet but harsh backhand still echoing in his ears, Akira turns his head enough to stare out of the train’s window.

Eyes dry and head buzzing Akira watches the countryside pass him by as he grows ever closer to Tokyo.

Ever closer to the start of the new life he never actually asked for.

 _“Leave and don’t come back,”_ his father had gritted out between clenched teeth as he’d shoved the one way ticket into Akira’s hand. _“You are no longer our son.”_

 _‘Well,’_ Akira can’t help but think again, just as he had in the moment when it was happening, _‘what else is new?’_

His parents, always distant and absent more often than not anyways, busy with work and anything and everything but him, had washed their hands of Akira the moment he’d been arrested.

Being kicked out of their house after a year in a juvenile facility with only one bag of clothes, his surprisingly still working phone, and his wallet, is just them finally making things _official_. 

Plus, if he’s being honest, Akira’s not sure if he’s ever been anything more to them than a box to check off of their list anyways.

And now he never will be.

~~~

Tokyo is just as large and crowded and overwhelming as Akira remembers it being from the few trips he’s made to the city in the past.

Perhaps more so, actually, now that he’s standing just outside the station doors, his one bag in hand and an awareness as to just how little he has in the way of money haunting the back of his mind.

He’s never been one for spending large amounts of whatever cash he got his hands on. He’s always been more inclined to saving whatever leftover grocery money or his small allowance his parents had given him instead. So on the slightly brighter side his bank account has a semi-decent padding for someone his age.

Though, to be honest, he’s mainly surprised that his parents hadn’t drained his account before they threw him out.

Thank the gods for small mercies he supposes.

But, all of that aside, Akira’s also smart enough to know that his savings won’t last him long in the scheme of things.

Tokyo is _expensive_ and with a record like his … well his options are limited when it comes to getting a respectable job.

Not that respectability is really ranking all that high with him at the moment. Akira is, if nothing else, pragmatic. A character trait that his time in corrections had only made worse.

He has nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat, not enough money to do either for long anyways, and no one here waiting to help him with any of those things.

Akira’s more than aware that he’s not in any position to be picky if he can actually find someplace willing to hire him.

Until then though he’s going to have to make what little bit he has stretch for as long as possible while he figures out what he’s going to do next.

It’s a small sort of comfort that he, at least, doesn’t have any kind of schedule he needs to keep to. There’s no school to attend, no friends or family for him to check in with. Even the courts had decided that a year of time served was enough of a punishment for his supposed crime.

So there’s nothing and no one keeping tabs on him

Which means that Akira’s got all the time in the world to figure out what to do next.

~~~

Except no, no he doesn’t.

Because there’s a red and black app on his mysteriously still working phone that says otherwise.

Time, Akira will soon come to know, is much more precious for him now than it ever was before.

~~~

_~Six Months Later~_

“ _Joker_ ,” Morgana hisses urgently, “you have to get up.”

Akira hears him, of course he does, but not _clearly_. Morgana’s call comes to him as if through a tunnel or from underwater, voice wavering and distant like something is separating them.

Akira knows what it is that’s pulling them apart and flooding his senses with a sticky sort of buzz that feels almost impossible to push through.

 _Exhaustion_.

Plain but not so simple.

“ _Akira_ ,” Morgana tries again. “ _Come on._ You can’t sleep here.”

This time Morgana bats at him, a thankfully clawless paw patting incessantly at Akira’s exposed cheek.

All Akira can do in return is whine, high and hurt and _spent_ , in the back of his throat. He’s already tried to move. Had tried to push himself up even without Morgana’s urging.

He’s already tried to do something, _anything_.

Really he has.

His first instinct when like this will always be to hide away somewhere warm and _safe_ until he’s strong enough to get back up and keep pushing forwards.

But as much as he wants to respond, as much as he wants to do what his best friend is asking him to do and _move_ , Akira just ... _can’t_.

He’s too tired, too exhausted down to his _soul_ , to do more than curl just a bit tighter into the ball his body had instinctively formed when he’d hit the ground.

The voices and instincts that normally pulse in the back of Akira’s mind are still for once. The Persona he’s currently holding in at the forefront of his soul are all silent in that way that they normally only get when Akira’s pushed himself to the very limits of his stamina. They only ever go so dormant is when Akira’s running on less than fumes, his body aching with the memories of wounds that have long since disappeared, whisked away by healing magic or by the transition back into the upworld.

Even Arsene, his first and only other constant companion besides Morgana, is quieter than normal.

And that’s something that only ever really happens on days like this one.

Conquering Palaces with only Morgana at his physical side is hard work after all, even after all this time.

Sometimes, when Akira is tired and sore and fraying just a bit at the edges, he can’t help but wish they had more help, that it all didn’t rest on his and Morgana’s shoulders alone. That there was someone, anyone, to help lighten the load a bit.

Maybe then they’d be able to do their work _faster_ too instead of being forced to maintain the delicate game of attack and retreat that each and every Palace and trip into Mementos requires them to play.

But then that’d also require them to find people not only capable of wielding a Persona but people Morgana and Akira both were willing to actually trust with all of their secrets.

And, despite there being no other identified Persona welders around, _trust_ is still, somehow, the bigger roadblock by far.

Akira hears a resigned, but also somehow still fond, sounding sigh and then there’s the feeling of a familiar warmth pressing closer to him.

“Okay,” Morgana finally whispers as he moves to wrap himself around Akira’s head, soft, silky fur brushing against his skin. “Rest for a while, I’ll keep watch. But you’re gonna owe me so much sushi for this.”

Akira just hums as best he can before he finally lets himself drift off. The rasp of a warm tongue at his temple and the start up of a steady vibrating purr against his ear makes Akira feel far more safe and content than he realistically should feel in this moment.

It doesn’t matter though, what logic says Akira should feel right now in this situation. It doesn’t matter that he’s cold and achy and hungry. It doesn’t matter that the ground of the alley is hard and unforgiving.

All that matters is the fact that Akira _knows_ that Morgana will watch over him no matter what.

He might look like a simple house cat in this world but there’s no one, human or otherwise, that Akira trusts more to have his back. Morgana has never let him down in the past, no matter what kinds of odds they’ve ended up against.

They’ve stuck to each other’s side with a steadfast and unyielding sort of loyalty that Akira’s never experienced before from the very moment they met almost half a year ago.

So sleep slides upwards and over Akira with a surprising sort of ease as he doesn’t even bother to try and fight the way his eyes grow heavier by the second.

Besides, it’s not like this is the first time either of them will have slept on the dirty ground in one of the back alleys of Tokyo, too exhausted and spent to go any further.

And, more than likely, it won’t be the last.

At least Shibuya is slightly safer than some of the places they’ve slept before.

Or, well, at least now it is.

After all, starting tonight, Kaneshiro will no longer be a problem.

~~~

“You still look like hell, darling,” a warm, husky voice breaks through the haze that’s still lingering around Akira.

“Feel like it too,” Akira agrees, just able to muster enough energy to peel his face off of the bar so he can look up at Lala.

It’s been three days now since he and Morgana stole Kaneshiro’s treasure and he’s just now beginning to feel like something approaching human again. Morgana, on the other hand, is still upstairs fast asleep on the futon tucked away in the corner of their tiny apartment.

“ _Hm_ ,” Lala hums, plucked brows drawn down together and her artfully painted mouth settled into a deep frown. “At least you look better than you did. You said it was a cold but ... you’re not in some kind of trouble are you?”

“No,” Akira forces himself to sit upright and give her his full attention. Lala deserves that and more from him after all. Especially since he can’t, won’t, give her the truth. “Just sick.”

“Somehow I doubt that but I also know I won’t get anything out of you if you don’t want me to,” Lala sighs, head shaking with obvious exasperation. “I swear, for someone so young and cute you’re locked up tighter than a clam.”

Akira just shrugs because there’s really nothing else for him to say.

Lala’s one of his favorite people and he owes her a lot but, well, even the trust he has in her doesn’t extend that deep.

Plus Akira’s sure that, when push comes to shove, she’s just safer not knowing.

He’d never forgive himself if, somehow, his and Morgana’s work caused her to get hurt someday.

“Had one of the regulars ask about you,” Lala’s statement rips Akira’s attention away from where it had begun to wander and plants it firmly back on her. “Seemed real disappointed too when you didn’t show up again last night.”

Akira feels a small shiver of interest go down his spine.

Questions about him rarely end well for Akira himself but, given Lala’s normal clientele, and specifically the ones that could be considered _regulars_ , he’s more curious than anything else.

Just curious though, nothing else. No matter how many times Morgana or even Lala tease and say otherwise. Really.

“Who?” Akira asks as nonchalantly as possible, a long, slow blink behind his glasses the only sign of interest that he allows himself to give.

But, as she so often seems to do, Lala seems to see right through him to a degree.

“Who’re you hoping it was?” Lala winks over her shoulder at him as she moves on to reorganizing another row of bottles.

“ _Lala-chan_ ,” Akira resists the urge to whine, aware of the way heat has begun to crawl up his neck just a bit. Sometimes he thinks having her around is what having a mischievous, occasionally brusque, but always dependable aunt would be like.

It’s a good thought, the whispered dream of _family_ , but it’s also one he doesn’t let himself dwell on all that often.

“Such a fierce pout,” Lala laughs without even bothering to turn back around and look at him, intent on finishing up her preparations and wiping down the bar with a cloth. “Let’s just say it was one of my _favorites_. Even came wandering up to the bar for once after haunting that back table looking all broody. Even tried asking without actually _asking_ about where my sweet little _Ren-chan_ had gotten to.”

“Definitely wasn't Ohya-san then,” Akira mumbles, teeth chewing at the inside of his bottom lip as his mind races. Back tables, broody silences, and the use of his work name automatically rule out the reporter who’d taken an unexpected shine to Akira a few months back.

So, unfortunately, while Lala’s given enough clues to narrow it down just a bit, it’s still not enough information for him to know, with certainty, just who was asking about him with such intent.

It just makes his curiosity, a trait that living with Morgana practically in his pocket for all these months has only made worse, prickle even harder.

Still, the tiny whisper of who Akira _wants_ it to have been is something he brushes aside like the nonsense he knows it is. Nothing would or will ever come of it and Akira doesn’t have time for that kind of distraction anyways even if his _interest_ were to somehow be returned.

Besides that’s really all it is, an idle interest.

It’ll fade soon, he knows it will because he _does not_ have a _crush_ no matter how much Morgana snickers about it.

“That lush?” Lala huffs as she finally turns back around. “I love the girl but no, it wasn’t her. Besides she’s not right for you at all. Trust me, I can tell.”

Akira just stares at her, one brow arched in question.

“Don’t give me that look,” Lala lightly snaps the rag in her hand in his direction. “I’m right and we both know it. No you need someone a lot more … _sturdy_.” 

Akira does his best to battle back the slight flush he can feel once again flirting with his collar. Someone _sturdy_ sounds way more appealing than Akira’s willing to admit out-loud.

“Look at that blush,” Lala laughs again, a low but still appealing husky sound. “Lucky for you I don’t have time to keep teasing right now. Need to finish getting ready for the night rush. Should be nice and crowded tonight.”

“Need help?” Akira asks softly. “I’m good enough to work.”

He’s still tired and feels only marginally human again but helping out at _Crossroads_ is something he very much doesn’t mind doing. It’s entertaining, stimulating, and he hears plenty of good rumors that pan out more often than most might suspect.

Plus the pay is good no matter how many times Akira tells Lala that he’ll work for free. She’d been kind enough to allow him to rent the tiny apartment upstairs for beyond dirt cheap. Helping out when he doesn’t have anything else lined up is the least he can do.

She always huffs, swats at him with a rag, and then stuffs a wad of yen in his hand at the end of every single night anyways. In return he never stops offering or slipping at least half of it back into her obi when she’s not looking.

“Go get your face on,” Lala waves him away. Which is, of course, an answer all on its own. “And wear the red number, you know the one.”

“Why?” Akira asks, already pushing himself up off of the stool.

“Don’t play coy with me,” Lala chides. “Save that for your _admirer._ He’ll probably be back tonight you know. He’s been in every evening this week instead of just on Monday and I _know_ it’s because he’s been looking for you.”

“ _Stalker_ ,” Akira murmurs, doing his best to ignore the way that bud of curiosity blossoms just a bit more.

“ _Smitten_ ,” Lala corrects easily enough. “Deliciously so in my opinion. Put your best foot forwards and who knows, if you play him and your cards right, you might have some company in that lonely little bed of yours for once.”

Akira doesn’t bother replying. Instead he pushes his way out of the front door, hangs an immediate sharp left, and half walks, half pulls himself up the steep metal staircase that’s waiting there.

He needs to get cleaned up a bit if he’s going to get dressed up and then work down in the bar tonight.

And Akira’s only going to wear “the red number” because Lala asked him to, and not because he wants to look his absolute best.

Really.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and scream at me while you check out the #Bad Beat Baby AU tag:
> 
> http://rayshippouuchiha.tumblr.com/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [as my heart bursts in the night (hold my hand)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26405752) by [leocantus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leocantus/pseuds/leocantus)




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